


nothing is real, get over it

by amaltheasshole



Category: Everyman HYBRID
Genre: I'm havin an unreality fit lmao I just started writing down my thoughts using alex, There's also self harm talk, i was drinking coffee and some rice was in the cup, lmao depersonalization is fun, probably because I clogged the kerig with rice but that's a different story, unreality, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 06:51:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11892348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaltheasshole/pseuds/amaltheasshole
Summary: Mmmm I love depersonalization





	nothing is real, get over it

Alex sat against the closet, staring at the wall in front of him. It was one of those days where nothing felt real. He tried all the methods of telling if he was dreaming, and while they all proved he was indeed not dreaming, everything just felt off.

Were the walls getting closer? Has the room always been this small? He questioned himself as he moved his line of sight around the room. He would go and investigate, but he just didn't feel like getting up.

Maybe if Sparky was around he would be able to cope better.

Ok, that wall definitely just moved in closer. He looked down at his feet then back to the wall, which was closer now. Soon they would be too close, wouldn't they?

He looked at his arms and picked at the recently stabbed over cuts. He had relapsed only a few days ago. Was it a few days? Was it a week? Wait, wasn't it today? When the hell was it? He looked back to the wall, and it seemed to finally start staying the same place.

He picked at a certain scab until it started bleeding, to which he simply wiped onto his fingers, and waited for the blood to pool up again. It wasn't much blood, but it was enough to distract him for a while. He looked back up to the wall. It moved while he wasn't looking, didn't it.

He wanted his sock puppet. He knew it wasn't Sparky, but it helped him during these dream like state of mind moments. Has it been an hour since this started? It felt like a minute. Wasn't he just in the bathroom a minute ago? What's happening with his hands? Are they even being controlled by him? Shaking them isn't helping. He looked back at the wall. It didn't move, luckily.

He pulled at the skin on his wrist, feeling the pain and deciding that that part of the dream was settled as not one. It wasn't elastic and didn't stretch out far enough to be considered dream like. Maybe if he looked to the sky it would work. Unfortunately, it was nighttime, and the sky was gonna be hard to see. Was there a figure in the corner of the room? The wall hadn't moved.

Maybe if he picked up one of the books from the shelves and tried to read it, it might help. But the bookshelf seemed a bit far, although it felt closer. He bit at his already shaved down fingernails, which had become sharp from all the bite marks.

What time was it? 12am? No, it was 1am. He grabbed his phone from his back pocket and checked the time. It was 10pm. It felt later. The wall moved.

He sighed and tugged on his beanie, hoping for it to bring some comfort like Sparky had. Maybe it was fruitless to fight this delusion. The wall didn't move.


End file.
